


by your side

by Roy



Category: Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Edited and corrected, M/M, POV Daryl, POV Rick, Rickyl
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-04-19
Updated: 2014-04-29
Packaged: 2018-01-20 01:06:57
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,497
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1491073
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Roy/pseuds/Roy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In a twist of events, the group is dispersed , Terminus is not a viable option , not a safe course , Rick struggles to keep his little family safe ; priorities and discovering feelings that had no time to appreciate before.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Blood

_** Chapter One ** _

 

The taste of blood in his mouth remained insistent; even after taking a mouthful of water and spitting several times, the taste lingered. They were only a few hours from dawn after the fight with Joe’s men; the dizziness and muscle tension remained high, leaving Rick feeling like he was hanging on a line voltage when he had relented and gave way to the beast inside himself, hitting, biting, and destroying everything in its path. Vivid memories bounced around in Rick’s head, echoing in the silence surrounding them as they walked along the tracks following the illusion of “Sanctuary for All” representing Terminus.

While walking, his left foot stumbled weakly right.  The sun dimly lit his face , causing an itch that warmed comfortably in sharp contrast to the pain and discomfort that still pounded through his body constantly. He looked down at one of his hands that he had cleaned his best with the handkerchief Daryl had offered, but now they had that nasty pale pink skin exposed.  He thought briefly that maybe he should wrap it up, only looked up the road instead and continued to walk awkwardly, letting the drumming in his head mark a kind of rhythm to follow.

Rick was lost, disgusted, scared, confused, angry and tired, trying to process ideas, coherent thoughts, but in his mind there was only blood. There would always be blood no matter where they hide or flee to. There will always be blood, and blood is what he feared most right then. He had it on him, savoring, swallowing it; the red engulf his vision and was on the toes of his boots ... hard to believe that wearing the boots nonstop the last about three days wouldn’t bother him? He really did not know. The other ailments in his body hurt so bad that he could barely focus on his feet, but surely they bothered him; Rick had not slept well lately, which all total added up to almost four nights without proper rest. He maybe got a few hours the night before, but he seemed to take forever without sleep, as indicated by the pressure in his temples and the dead weight on his shoulders.

As he was walking now, he seemed like a walker.  However, the people who accompanied him, avoiding the eyes from each other as they walked in single file, made him seem human, one wounded and tired, but human. Rick felt the awkward silence, the flickering looks, the sighs, the tension in the air, but there was nothing he could do but keep walking without looking back.

Terminus was a disappointment. Maybe Rick was too overwhelmed to think clearly as they walked the train tracks, but once they got to the place proclaimed as the "sanctuary," they all had to use all their senses to make sure that the place was really safe and it was not. After spending a few hours watching from the outside, they realized many things that did not fit with the idea of a safe place at all. The lack of vigilance, the smell of cooked meat and the smoke in the air, which apparently came from the remains of human bodies in a manholes near a dumpster in the northwest corner of the infrastructure.  They planted serious doubts in the minds of the four intruders. The doors open without guards was what worried Rick. A leader knows that it is not easy to accept new members to a core group, and so wanting at least have to take precautions in terms of inviting strangers into your home, controlling how many people can enter, and Terminus being a place so keen to recruit people and all the above aspects made the former assistant sheriff and father nervous.  He decided that this was no place for them and that the risk was not worth being able to get in and out again. It was best that they should be on their own for a while they continue searching for a safe place to live.  Daryl was now at least with them , that calmed him greatly.

They walked about two hours north, crossing a path of trees that had some chestnuts that served to calm a little hunger.  Carl was moaning and groaning softly to himself all the time, about how they could have explored Terminus better and left it as an option to stay.  It was hard to keep up with Rick, so Daryl walked to the front with Michonne who did her best to encourage Carl, playing on a competition over who would get the best home to stay.

Rick was giving in to fatigue, suffering occasional relapses, which made him stagger to the side, losing his driving force. Daryl was at his side, always with an eye on his shoulder and ready to be supportive and help stabilize the step. Rick said nothing at first but wanted to thank him, but his mind was so full of confusion and anger....

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Revised by Violet_Rose


	2. Sleep

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After what seemed an eternity, Rick has a night's sleep. Daryl can only struggle to find comfort.

_** Chapter Two ** _

 

 

They found a house in a small neighborhood consisting of five two-story houses, of which one was looted and burned to the ground.  The other four were still in one piece, mostly; they chose one in particular that was perfect for the four of them.  It was the smallest house but it had the insurance of actual doors still on the hinges and the windows were still in perfect condition. Most importantly, the furniture was still in place and seemed to not have much damage.  There were several bookcases on the ground floor that could be placed against the doors and windows to keep out the walkers. As the little group wandered through the house, they noticed that it was notably clean. There was no evidence that any walkers or looters had ever entered the residence, although they found the door open.

They gathered around the kitchen table after throwing down a bunch of empty boxes and food wrappers apparently abandoned not long ago. They shared two cans of peaches in syrup and some crackers. Daryl promised to hunt in the morning. Rick looked at him with a half smile.  He still felt very close to Daryl, even after they had spent some time apart. Being close to the other man was above all reassuring.

After the silent meal, the foursome secured the house; doors and windows were blocked with heavy furniture and cabinets. The house had two doors so they kept the main entrance reasonably easy to get to in the event a quick exit was needed. They set up a table with many glass objects on it that would serve as an alarm in case something forced entry.

The back door was damaged. It was harder to secure since it would not close properly, so they tied a cable from the door handle of the fridge beside it and also moved the washing machine so it would block the doorway.

Rick knew there were people around and that the house had been inhabited recently.  That group might come back anytime, plus the proximity to "Terminus " was uncomfortable, but they had to stay there long enough to recuperate. Then they could move farther north to search out a more stable place.

The house had three actual bedrooms with the fourth seeming like a dumping ground covered with dust and mold. Everyone thought that it was a storage room before everything started. Carl and Michonne each took a room upstairs and fell asleep instantly.  That left the final room on the ground floor.

Rick pointed at the door of the vacant room, “You take it.  I’ll sleep on the couch over there,” he said, looking over at the worn piece of furniture with a huge stack of magazines scattered across it.

 

Daryl shook his head.  “You are not a cat, man.”  He approached Rick, careful in his stance.  “You’re messed up.  Go sleep in the bed.  I’ll sleep on this thing,” he said, kicking the bottom of the couch, making several magazines fall to the ground.

 

“Thank you,” Rick nodded to his companion and turned to go into the bathroom, leaving Daryl cleaning the magazines off the couch to lay down.

 

The bathroom was clean and had all the fixtures and running water still. Rick cleaned the mirror glass, looking at his appearance. His rosy face had several small cuts scattered across his skin; his beard was full of dried blood and he thought that his hair might also have traces of blood.

 

Rick opened the medicine cabinet and took a couple of aspirin to relieve pain. To see them in the cabinet seemed like a miracle.  He put other drugs in his jacket pocket.  There weren’t many, but they would be useful for a while. He turned on the water, which after spitting several jets of muddy water began to very slowly turn to clean water. He wiped his face clean and rinsed out his mouth, brushing his teeth with toothpaste.  He then stripped off his clothes and jumped in the shower. The water came out very cold, but Rick stood there with a sponge, scrubbing his body down until it was completely clean. Getting out of the shower, he toweled off and dressed from head to toe in order to be prepared for a possible emergency exit in the middle of night and left for bed.

 

The downstairs bedroom was cramped, but it had a bath.  Rick sat in the bed, spacious and smooth, though it had a strange creak that sounded like old wood at the slightest movement. Looking in the closet, Rick found two quilts and many clean sheets and blankets.  He pulled one of the quilts and two blankets and closed the doors of rotten wood. He put the quilt on the bed and put the blanket over it, with the pillow on top, pulling the covers up well.

 

He approached the doorway and called out. “Daryl,” he said hoarsely.  For a second, he thought the other man hadn’t heard him, but before he could call out again, he saw him lean over the ugly blue couch with the crossbow still securely in his right hand.  “You don’t need that.  Just… come over here.”  After a breath, Daryl nodded at him suspiciously, dropping the crossbow on the table next to the stairs before he entered the room when Rick stepped aside to make way.

 

“What? What’s wrong?” Daryl asked and began to pace the room looking for any abnormalities. He looked at Rick from the corner of his eye, walking slowly toward the quilt. He sat there and raised his face to Daryl with tired eyes, but the face and hair clean, the pale, cool skin wiped free of the blood from earlier.

 

“The bed is yours. I’ll lie down here.  The bathroom water is terribly cold,” he said. Rick had his back against the bed and was looking for something in his jacket.

 

Daryl shook his head.  “Rick , no ... I don’t want …”

“It's yours, Daryl. I want you to rest well if you’re going to go hunting early in the morning. I also saw you limping.  You probably haven’t sleep well for days either. You must have at least one good night's sleep.”

Daryl was silent, staring at his shoes and restless , trembling fingers .

 

“Here,” Rick held out his palm to his partner. Daryl glanced at the contents and looked at Rick 's eyes doubtfully.  “It’s aspirin ... Take them, please.”

 

“Keep them for Michonne... or Carl.”  The archer shook his head, refusing the medication.

 

“Take them, Daryl, please.  Don’t do this.  Don’t make me beg you.  We have exceeded that phase of confidence,” Rick stared him down with his blue gaze.  “Take them.”

The archer sighed.  It was true, he trusted Rick.  He was the only person he had ever really trusted, and he knew that he cared for him as no one else would or ever did.

 

“Fine…,” Daryl took the two white pills and took them to his mouth, swallowing them. “I'll go wash up.”

 

“Okay.” Rick placed his jacket on a bedside table and sat with an old map of the district Glenn got months ago on one of the missions that he made into the city,it was a matter of luck that the lead map in the pocket of his pants when he left the prison. He decided that they should plan the next step and suggest alternatives.  He would bring the options up to the group in the morning so they could all make a joint final decision. So with a finger on aged paper, he began to plot routes and roads.

 

Daryl took less than an hour to clean. The water was freezing and at times it was all he could do just to lean against the wall in front of him and shiver in the cold. He came out dressed only in his jeans and vest and threw the shirt in the bedside table on top of Rick’s jacket.

 

He climbed into bed and slid between the sheets.  It felt as if he was embraced by the clouds in comparison to the hard ground, floor, or even a busted up couch. Daryl had nearly forgotten what it was like to sleep on an actual bed.  He rolled to the left side edge and looked down. Rick was asleep, his head between his knees and the map in hand.  The position looked uncomfortable and harmful.  He would surely awaken with a terrible back and neck ache.

 

Daryl spent several minutes wondering whether or not he should wake him or leave him be to sleep as he was.  He was sorry to interrupt their sleep after being gone so long without rest. Finally, he got out of bed quietly and crouched beside Rick, removing the piece of paper in his hands and made him lie down on the blanket. With his head on the blanket folded into a pillow, he still looked uncomfortable.  So Daryl took the real pillow on the bed where he would sleep and placed his friend on his back with the pillow tucked under his head. Rick was so deeply asleep that he only managed to snort when he was moved.  His face was as relaxed and peaceful as Daryl had ever seen.

 

On his way back to bed, he stopped, noticing Rick’s feet and those damn boots that seemed to squeeze too much.  Daryl thought twice about it, but eventually gave in to his urges and with skillful hands he untied the laces and pulled shoes off the feet of his companion, leaving them at the foot of the bed.  Daryl climbed into the bed, body close to the edge so he could see Rick sleeping from where he lay.  He wasn’t sure how long he had been asleep when he suddenly woke deep into the night.  Rick was still there across the room, but was shivering with cold, covered only by the thin blanket.

 

“Rick,” he whispered, then he pushed his shoulder with two fingers, several times, until the other's eyes opened, glowing in the dark with their beautiful blue.

 

“What is it, Daryl?” Rick 's voice was hoarse and his teeth clashed over natural spasms of his body to the cold of the night in the mountain region.

“There's room for both. I don’t take up this much room.”  The darkness prevented him from looking at his face clearly, but Daryl was red with shame for suggesting something that invaded the privacy both liked to keep. But in this case, he didn’t care.  He knew what the priorities were and that was Rick’s health.

At first Rick refused, claiming it was fine, but when Daryl grabbed the blanketed body and pulling at his arm to make him get up. Rick was left with no choice but to accept the proposal and share the bed with his friend. He also shared the covers, which together made a bigger difference against the cold, or maybe it was just the heat of the human body, which merged with the little space between them.

 

Rick went back to sleep quickly, but not Daryl. This fighting between sleep and the feeling of warmth that was increasing in his chest being clumsily interpreted in his mind as the warmth of the blankets and not the body at his side. His arms and legs shivered slightly which he passed off as being from the cold and not the unstable impulses from feeling his partner so close and the almost irresistible urge to tell him how much he missed him and how much it meant to him for them to be back together again.  Those feelings made Daryl feel weak, ashamed, and stupid.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Revised by Violet_Rose


	3. Peaches

**Chapter three**

 

Daryl woke with the dawn. A faint white light filtered through the curtains of the window behind him.Rick's breath tickled his neck.  He had not noticed in his sleep, but Rick had found a way to cradle him, wrapping his arm around his chest, with a pillow as unique separation smashed between them.

Daryl left Rick peacefully sleeping.  He slipped softly out of bed, grabbed his clothes, crossbow and left the house through the front door.  He left the last latch to ensure no one entered the house while the others slept.  He walked feeling light and pleasant, which somewhat confused him since had to take down four walkers and saw many more scattered around the surrounding streets. It should be a quiet day but the feeling would not vanish from his chest. "We are together," Rick had said "that's what matters now," the words came to his head and gave him more a sense of peace now than when he had originally heard them whispered from his lips.

He thought of Joe and his men and their stupid rules as they were willing to kill a fellow without guilt or pain. He thought of Woodbury, the governor and his people who believed they had a normal life, believed that he cared, but behind that outward face, he would kill any man necessary, sacrificing lives to keep the illusion in one piece.  They had no sense of humanity, no real relationships.

He thought about his group from the beginning and what they are now. He thought about how it felt to see them again, as Rick reacted to him as his eyes told him everything would be fine while had a gun pointed at his head.  There was no comparison. Right now there was not a place or time in which would rather be. It was stupid; he should be willing to wake up and be drunk, lying on the floor of the apartment of one of Merel’s friends with no traces of the fucking apocalypse. But no, he wanted to be here with the people he was with now, turning back any sacrifice to preserve this reality, his, as it somehow gave him happiness.

Daryl spent the next few hours hunting and walking the perimeter behind the group of residences eliminating errant walkers while searching for something useful to take back, but there was nothing. Normally Daryl managed to get a couple of squirrels, some skinny bird or rodent unappetizing but easy to capture with simple traps, but this day there was no sign of any living creature in the undergrowth.

"Come on, appear ..." Daryl murmured, crouched among the trees. He was exasperated by now.  They had a couple of canned foods that would serve them for a day; but Daryl knew he needed to bring something home. He realized how hungry everyone was. Carl never complained anymore.  It had been a long time since Daryl had heard a whine from him or any symptoms of hunger come from the boy's mouth, but he saw it. Carl would sit with legs close together close to his chest, his arms around his legs and his chin resting on his knees, and sat for hours staring into the same number of Marvel comics he had read many times, pretending to read.  His father did not realize he was suffering the burning pains of hunger in his stomach, the pain becoming so overwhelming that it would be almost unbearable.

Daryl had not seen hunger in a long time.  At the prison, they didn’t have to worry much about food.  There was a good supply in the kitchen and combined with their weekly runs and Rick’s farm (one of Hershel’s best ideas), they managed to provide enough food for the whole group.

But last night, gathered around the kitchen table of the house, Carl had that look. After eating, he read the labels of the only three cans they had two hundred times at least, turning them in his hand again and again; Daryl was about to open one of them and force him to eat, but he knew could not do something like that if he tried.

Now he was determined to hunt, more than in any of his last trips to the forest. This time it was an emergency. He could eat canned food the rest of what was left of his life and not worry about their health, but the boy was so young and therefore deserved to have something decent to eat in these circumstances. Some meat represented an invaluable food for the boy.

He had not caught anything to prepare traps.  He thought he might not have enough time to go back and check them; so there he was, with his crossbow up, pointing to the branches of trees and a knife sheathed at his waist. He decided that he would not return home until he had something to carry back with him, so he had to look in the cupboards of houses again, or catch a rat in a cellar, which seemed to him an option though not a very good one, hoping not to have it ever come to that.

**\----**

Daryl came back to the house at 2:30pm.  He went in through the back door that he found open, the scarf hanging from the doorknob Carl left to signal that they were inside and safe.  Shuffling around a little, he tried to remove the excess mud from his boots before walking inside.  The sun had crisped his skin, leaving a slight sunburn on his face and shoulders.  He knew he looked tired; he could feel it in his face and he drag of his shoulders.  He put the crossbow on a kitchen chair and placed a paper bag on the counter with an owl inside.

"It's the best I could get…," He said. Michonne was leaning over a pot, heating up some water. Daryl imagined she was making a soup with the canned beans they had left.  She left the pot on the stove and looked at him worriedly, but silently. "Sorry," Daryl said regarding his few contributions after the hunt.

"Da-"

"I got this too," he interrupted, drawing a square tin out of his jacket.  It was canned corn."I found it in an abandoned car near the forest. It looked like the driver fled and just left it."

Michonne approached him slowly, looking at him suspiciously. She knew him.  They had gone on runs together many times and both were somewhat similar in their interactions with people.  They both had restrictions on contact, were reserved, and didn’t like to talk about their feelings, and hated confrontation. Perhaps she was the one person who most respected their limits out of everyone he knew. The brunette put his hand slightly on the edge of the vest and shirt and handed the can of can over.

"Go rest," she said taking the can and giving him a slight push towards the door, this being the gesture of thanks best suited for Daryl’s understanding. "The food is on me tonight and that bird will give us a splendid dinner."

Daryl nodded, taking a glass with tap water that Michonne offered and left the room, walking into the room where he had slept the night before.

"Daryl," Carl called from the stairs. Daryl walked back several steps and found him at the foot of the staircase and by the way he looked it seemed that he had been waiting.

"Did you sleep good? You look good,” Daryl said, resting one foot on the first step and leaning to see Carl's face.

"Yeah, pretty good. How was hunting?"

"I brought something." Seeing the light, cheerful, and spontaneous gesture in the face of the keeper Carl shrugged, embarrassed. "It’s not too much though."

"Thanks for going out to hunt, Daryl ... you ... you're almost as hurt as dad and still you're gone-"

"It's nothing."

Carl nodded, knowing that this was the most praise that Daryl could bear.

"Wait, I have something for you!" Carl quickly went upstairs and immediately came back down with something in his hands. "Here, I saved half from the breakfast." He held out a tin of peaches he had waited to eat since the night before.  Daryl seemed surprised to see that it even had half the contents intact.

"I…," Daryl was trying to formulate an excuse to let the boy finish eating the peaches, but seeing the determined look on Carl’s face, he was left with nothing other than to accept his good gesture. "Thank you."

Carl nodded and climbed back up to the top floor with the smug smile of the winning feeling of having Daryl take the peaches. Unbeknownst to Daryl, he had prepared several tricks to induce him to eat them by force.  He had been out all morning and Carl had doubted that he had taken anything he found for himself.

"Ah, Daryl," the boy spoke from above while the archer shoved the first peach to his mouth. "Dad is outside on the porch on watch and looking at that old map Glenn found.  He told me that I should force you to rest when you got home." The mode in which Carl paused told Daryl that he did not expect any argument on his part to have to go downstairs and make it into the room.

So the man said nothing, only made a sound that vaguely resembled “yes” and went on his way into the room gobbling the second peach. He tossed his jacket on the ground and toed his boots off.  After shoving the third peach in his mouth, he left tin on the nightstand next to the broken lamp and collapsed on the bed.

He closed the curtains above the bed where the sun came through, though its beams were weak from that side of the mountains; he lay on the bed face down, burying his face in the pillow.  The familiar smell filled his nostrils and again he thought of home and agonizing happiness that manifested itself in his stomach, but that soon passed into the background as he sank between the sheets and the comfort lulled him into a deep sleep.

**   
**

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Revised by Violet_Rose

**Author's Note:**

> This is a work in progress, I really would like advice and readers of this paper to decide the destination. They are out there, you guide them, I just write it.


End file.
